


Trap

by Annabelle_W



Series: Alliance [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha Jared Padalecki, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega Jensen, POV First Person, Pregnant Jensen Ackles, Pregnant Sex, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabelle_W/pseuds/Annabelle_W
Summary: An omega (co)running a pack isn't easy.  Especially when that pack is at war.  Especially when the opposing side seeks to win by cheating.And especially when he's pregnant.Sequel to "Alliance."
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: Alliance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193816
Kudos: 79





	Trap

Six months ago:

My first thought when I ride up to the small welcome committee is that the Padalecki alpha looks way too young, like he should be attending lectures on Exploring the Other in Early Modern Literature (or something similar) instead of running the fourth largest werewolf pack in Texas. 

As I watch, the light breeze picks up a curling lock of red-highlighted hair and drops it over one wide, slightly tilted eye of indeterminate color. A long-fingered hand rises to impatiently push it back behind his ear. There's no missing the way his entire arm quivers nervously during the (likely unconscious) gesture. Or the constant shuffling of his feet. Or how often he rubs his (presumably) sweaty palms on his denim-covered hips.

But, I reflect as I slide off my bike, there's also no mistaking which of the strangers standing before me is the alpha. The young man exudes an authority that shines through his nervous jitters. He might actually be a worthwhile ally--and maybe a friend.

I have to smother a gasp when I get close to him. He's so tall it's surreal, and the width of his shoulders almost mesmerizes me--until I lift my gaze higher and become captivated by the swirl of everchanging color in his beautiful eyes.

"Welcome." The voice does not come from the vision in front of me, but rather from the grizzled alpha standing beside him. An advisor? Perhaps one inherited from his father?

Before I can respond with the decorum owed my hosts, the advisor (?) asks if I wish to see my room and Alpha Jared chimes in with an offer to take me. I normally avoid alphas, but I'm more than willing to make an exception for a polite one who seems too shy and insecure (and too sweet?) to attempt to overpower me. The "yes" is already forming on my tongue when he concludes his inquiry by calling me "Mr. Ackles."

My father's stern face, rigid with the disappoint too often directed at me after my presentation, swims into my mind. I freeze, no longer interested in anything but finding my temporary living space as quickly as possible so I can be alone until Alpha Ackles' invisible presence fades from my consciousness. He said he was proud of me for forming my own pack, but that could be merely because I'm imitating the alpha he wanted me to be and . . . and I need to stop this train of thought. It doesn't help that the tiny brunette on Jared's other side decides to interrogate me about my father. I acknowledge my relationship to the leader of the powerful Dallas pack before quickly adding, "I would like to see my room, thank you," in hopes that my rudeness would end all further questions.

Jared's handsome visage shutters, but he's quick to acquiesce, quick to lead me to his own house.

The scent slams into me the moment I enter. I vaguely noticed Jared smelled nice when we were outside, but my senses were assaulted by so many new sights, sounds, scents that I didn't really pay attention. Here in his home, though, it's inescapable. Hints of lime and cocoa and rum. And so much overpowering alpha musk.

It's comfort and kismet, safety and seduction. It's home. It's intoxicating. It's MATE.

*

Present time:

"It's a trap," Jim Beaver announces. Jared's grey-bearded advisor follows his declaration with a hard punch on the table, the force of his were strength cracking the wood.

"Of course it's a trap," Jared agrees, baritone voice thoughtful. He toys with his phone--the very phone Mark Pellegrino called an hour ago declaring a cease-fire and asking for a meeting. "Either he plans to use the meeting as a diversion while he sends his wolves to annihilate all of you"--his pointer finger draws a quick circle--"or he's setting up an ambush for me." 

My vivid imagination helpfully presents mental pictures of a broken, bloody, dead Jared and his house strewn with the mangled corpses of his pack. I shudder. "Or both."

Everyone turns to look at me.

I clear my throat. "I think he's planning to get you alone"--I grab my mate's hand--"so he can kill you, but he also wants to send his army here to wipe out everyone else."

Murmurs of assent. Jared's arm snakes around my shoulder, squeezes me possessively. "That won't happen."

Christian speaks up. "So how do we stop him?"

*

"Hey, Dad," I say as soon as he answers his phone.

There's way too long a pause. Then a cautious, "How's everything in Corpus?"

"Good. Real good." Danneel's leading the pack in my (and my strongest fighters') absence. I pity the wolf who tried to take her on, thinking the territory insufficiently defended. "Um." Time to tell him. "I actually called to . . . to let you know that I'm mated."

An intake of breath. "Christian finally make a move?" Alan Ackles never believed an omega and an alpha could be just friends.

I peer over the balcony. Across the river, I can just barely spot Chris pressing Chad against a tree while nuzzling his neck. "No. It's Jared. Jared Padalecki."

"Is it?" He sounds pleased. "You know, I thought of pairing you with Jeff." And just about every other alpha heir in the state. "Never occurred to me Jared was the one. Bit young, isn't he?"

I grit my teeth. "He's an adult. And an amazing pack leader."

"Is he?" Dad muses. "I thought he was about to get his pack taken from him."

I clench my fists so tightly my nails pierce the skin. "Yeah, well it's my pack now, too, so"--I take a deep breath--"so I was wondering if you could send some warriors to help us out."

"My son is the Pack Omega of the Padalecki pack. You have done well for yourself." Pride colors his tone. "I'll send a troop over immediately." He hangs up.

*

"At least he came through for you." Jared caresses my bare shoulder.

I brush my lips against his before sinking further into his embrace. "It just seems like all he cares about is how much honor I bring to him, not who I am as a person."

Jared sighs as he pulls the comforter more securely over us. "Sometimes it feels like our fathers expect more from us than we can give." He plucks at a loose string in the blanket. "But sometimes it turns out we just expect too much from ourselves." A glance upward reveals his eyes are faraway and suspiciously shiny. 

Right. Here I am complaining about my dad when Jared still mourns his. How insensitive could I get? I reach up with one hand to cup his face, rub my thumb over the defined ridge of his cheekbone. "You're right. At least he's sending some help. And maybe . . . maybe this is his way of making an overture."

Jared absentmindedly plays with my hair, twirling and twisting the short strands. "Why don't we invite your family to visit after all this is over?--Let them get to know the person you are instead of the alpha they originally thought you were and the omega they expected you to turn into? After you presented, I mean." He licks his lips, a sign that he's unsure if he's getting his point across. "Besides, there's going to be someone they'll want to meet." His free hand drops to my rounded stomach.

Our pup obligingly kicks.

Jared responds to the bump against his palm with a blinding, dimples-popping smile.

I can't help grinning indulgently back. "Looks like someone else can't wait to meet our little one."

"Really can't." He kisses me. A moment later, he sobers. "Hey, Jensen . . . ?" He pauses, bites his lip.

I raise an eyebrow. "Is this when you try to find a nonsexist way of telling me to sit this one out?"

He shakes his head so rapidly his face blurs. "No. I . . . I need someone to coordinate the fighters while Jim and I meet with Pellegrino. Would you be my general?"

*

The call comes just as I'm parking my bike near the Alamo.

Gen starts talking the moment I connect. "So Misha's intel was good." (Misha used his huge blue eyes and omega scent to beguile one of Pellegrino's ranking alphas). "They came at us from the north-west instead of east."

I remove my helmet, lock up. "And did you succeed in capturing them?"

"Yup." She sounds proud. Gen didn't realize that she's actually incredibly adept at military strategy and leadership until she met me and began an exploration of self-discovery into herself as an individual, not merely an omega. (Not that she ever lost her love of manipulating alphas through flirtatious winks and coy glances. Gen's the whole package). "They're in the barn on the north side of the packlands."

"Excellent." This means I can focus on protecting Jared. "Talk to you later, Gen. Keep me posted."

"Will do." 

There might be an extra swagger in my steps as I head for the River Walk entrance.

*

The air is noticeably cooler near the level of the river, even though humans pack the paths and small bridges so tightly it's difficult to get myself and my distended belly through the crowds. Smells assault my nose, from the river, from the people, from the restaurants. Steakhouses, Italian restaurants, Mexican eateries. All of them cram together, sometimes sharing buildings and kitchens. I pass a coffee shop and pause to breathe in the ambrosial scent. Oh, I miss coffee. Decaf just isn't the same. I pat my tummy, send a soothing thought to my pup that he (or she) is worth it.

A smoker holding a bottle of hard apple cider bumps roughly against me. I right her gently, trying not to envy her casual consumption of other pleasures denied me for the next few months. Her grey eyes sparkle when she scrutinizes my face and she licks her lower lip, perhaps readying her courage to talk to me. (I wonder sometimes if human women would be so ready to hit on me if they knew I share their reproductive capabilities). As it happens, though, this woman's shyly dropping gaze lands on what must look to her like a small but decided beer belly. Her lips curl in disgust. She mutters an apology and scutters off.

Guess I'll be free of unwanted human attention for awhile.

I've passed a few more buildings when Christian Kane's sultry voice slithers through the din of diners and partiers, crooning about "The House Rules." A sigh of relief exits my lungs. Jared chose the bar/steakhouse that gave Chris a regular gig (something tells me he won't be returning to Corpus Christi) for his meeting place, so if my friend is still singing, then my mate is still alive, still safe.

There. Even sitting at one table amongst a dozen, Jared stands out. His long torso and straight (tense) posture ensure that his head rises above those of all the other diners. He listens to Pellegrino's associate (is that Tim Omundson?) with a carefully neutral face, but the just-electrocuted state of his hair tells me that his stress-habit of running his hands through it has been unusually active this evening.

"He really is quite the virile specimen, isn't he?" a female voice purrs into my ear.

I stumble, nearly fall into the river. An iron hand grips my arm, steadies me. I struggle to catch my breath as I turn to greet Alaina. "I guess it's safe to say those super-strength blockers work."

She grins. "I can't smell you, either. Good thing that cute little tush of yours is so distinctive." She gives me a light smack.

"Hey!" My protest carries no heat. The statuesque, red-haired alpha winking at me was my first crush. (Which was one of the reasons why I wasn't entirely surprised when I presented omega). She once whispered to me, though, that she feels little attraction for omegas, that she finds other alphas far more appealing. Which reminds me: "Stop ogling my mate!"

A throaty laugh. "Your Jared is a cutie, but a little too young for me." Fair enough, since she was already among my father's officers when I entered my teens and she clearly still sees me as little more than a child. But then who . . . ? "I was eyeing that silver fox beside Pellegrino."

"Omundson?" Now that I think about it, the man is incredibly handsome, with his silver mane and burly alpha physique. Still, "He's the one who betrayed Jared's father."

She shrugs. "Nobody's perfect." A mischievous lip quirk. "I still want to ride him until my knot swells and I spill all over that giant chest." 

Aaaaaand I've heard too much. "Did you find all of Pellegrino's men?" She and the rest of the troop my father sent were tasked with finding the wolves meant to ambush Jared either during or after his meeting. After all, he agreed to only bring one associate and no weapons. 

A sly smile. "They're taken care of."

Chad glides out of a deep shadow. He waves a syringe in my direction. "Dr. Connell says they should wake up in about twenty hours."

Ruth Connell slinks over to us, after seemingly materializing out of nowhere. (Jared's omega and beta friends appear to be excellent at espionage). "They might be a wee bit disoriented. And I'm sure their heads will be mightily sore."

I don't doubt that. "Well then. Time to go talk to Alpha Pellegrino."

More wolves from Jared's and my combined pack and from Dad's troop fall silently behind me as I march across the open-air dining area. 

The four men at the table I'm heading for turn to stare at me, at us. Pellegrino's eyes drop to my stomach, then back to my face. He raises an eyebrow. "Well," he drawls, "either you've been hitting the beer a little too hard or you've been hiding your designation."

Jared stands up so fast his chair clatters to the ground. "Don't speak to him like that." His eyes flash as only a wolf's can.

Pellegrino chuckles. "I see whose breeder he is."

It takes Jim, Chad, Alaina, and me to physically hold Jared back. We're all breathing hard by the time his claws retract, both literally and metaphorically. I keep a warning hand on his heaving chest when I turn back to Pellegrino. "Mark," I begin, deliberately using his first name instead of his formal title, "We've apprehended all of your fighters, the ones that you sent to our packlands and the ones you ordered to kill Jared on his way home. It's over." I lower my tone, steel my voice. "Leave now and we'll consider returning your people in one piece."

He laughs, lounging insolently in his chair. "You think it's that easy, huh?" He snaps his fingers. Most of the other diners (and some of the waitstaff) leap to their feet and surround us. "You're not the only ones who know where to find industrial-strength scent blockers."

At a nod from Jared, all of our wolves move into combat positions. (It doesn't escape me that they all conveniently surround me--but I can't resent their instinctive need to protect a pregnant omega). My mate bares his teeth, growls, "You will not take my pack. You will not take my city."

Mark smoothly rises from his seat. "You sure about that? Look around." His gesture encompasses the individuals wandering past on both sides of the river, the tourists in boats, the couples and groups of friends enjoying a night out. "There are security cameras and every one of those people has a phone. You think our fight won't be all over the internet tomorrow? You'll have to leave anyway." A smug smirk. "Best to just surrender your lands immediately."

"I don't think so!" a clear voice rings over the loudspeaker. Christian Kane stands forgotten on the stage, a small device in his hand. He clicks a button on it with an exaggerated flourish. There's a flash of light and then everything goes dark. Very, very dark. "That took out every electronic device in a half-mile radius." He shouts, since his microphone no longer works. "So, no cameras and not enough light for anyone to get a good gander at what we're doing." He hops off the stage. "Now, Alpha!"

I have just enough time to note that my best friend called my mate "Alpha" instead of "Jared"--meaning he's accepted him as (co) pack leader--before pandemonium breaks out.

I don't notice I've changed until I find myself ripping through a beta's throat with my fangs. 

Time loses all meaning as I fall into warrior mode, my senses focused solely on taking out one enemy after another. Until I reach out my claws for the next combatant and come up empty. I swiftly blink back my awareness of the world, look around, feeling vaguely grateful that my were night vision allows me to do so.

Jared perches on top of Mark's mangled body, blood dripping from his jaws. He lifts his head to the sliver of moon visible and howls triumphantly. 

*

Thanks to months of war, our pack has grown efficient at removing all signs of carnage before the human police arrive. The bodies (mostly from Pellegrino's pack) are carted away, the blood (and gore) mopped up, the tables and chairs righted, and clothing reassembled before the lights come back on and helpful officers wander onto the scene to see if the mysterious blackout left us any the worse for wear.

We quickly wave them off. It helps that they're mobbed by panicked, confused civilians, which means that they quickly lose interest in us.

Alaina saunters into my field of vision, pulling Omundson along behind her, trussed with his own tie. "I'm going to take this one with me, if you don't mind," she cheerily tells Jared. "He needs to learn some lessons about loyalty." Tim looks equal parts terrified and ecstatic. 

Jared throws back his head and laughs, exposing the lengthy expanse of his neck and the faint remnants of the hickies I distinctly recall sucking onto it a few nights ago. Plus, he's bare-chested, since his shirt was shredded beyond saving, so I can admire his muscles, his warrior's scars, his blood-stained curls of chest hair.

I'm running my fingers through the sticky strands before I realize I've crossed the room.

The laughter fades from Jared's irises as his eyes darken in reaction to my obvious interest--and to the pheromones no longer hidden by the scent blockers, since I sweated those off during the fight. Jared takes the hand still on his chest, enfolds it in his own massive palm. His heat--still elevated from adrenaline--bleeds into me. His scent (wild and triumphant and ravenous) overpowers me.

I don't try to resist. 

Our mouths snap together, our bodies entwine. He lifts me and my legs settle around his waist, while we continue to devour each other's lips. The need to be even closer has me sliding a hand between our bodies, fumbling with Jared's belt.

A throat clears to my left.

Jared pulls away from my mouth just long enough to growl warningly.

I sink gratefully back into his embrace.

An iron hand lands on my bicep. "Not here," someone--Chris!--grits. "You'll get arrested for indecency." 

Oh. Right. We're in public and there are cops milling about. Jared shamefacedly sets me down. "Sorry, Chris."

I hasten to explain. "We got carried away."

He snorts. "I noticed. Come on. I'll take you to my green room." He strides away, adding over his shoulder. "There's a couch."

*

There is a couch. Jared lowers me carefully onto it the moment the door locks behind us. We kiss languidly while we undress each other, but our touches swiftly grow frantic. My soaking hole feels achingly empty, so I push Jared off my sensitive nipples and gasp, "I need you."

"Right." He runs a hand through his hair as he pulls back. A frown darkens his face as he considers the barrier of my sizeable tummy. "Right," he softly repeats.

I am not going to be c-blocked by my well-meaning mate. I glare at him before rolling over and rising to my hands and knees. "NOW!" I order.

He promptly obeys, sliding home and pounding into me while making sure to caress all of my erogenous zones. My chest, my groin, a tantalizing spot on my lower spine. Ohhhhh, yes. He alters his aim slightly and--"Yes!"--thrusts into my sweet spot. There. There. "Mmmm." There. There's his knot. "Jared!" I explode all over the couch.

I am so glad I decided to answer that request for help six months ago.

**Author's Note:**

> For the first time since I started writing fanfics, I don't have an idea for my next one. So, I'd love to hear any suggestions/requests.


End file.
